


The 41st Fandango

by luminality



Series: The 41st Fandango [1]
Category: Disco Elysium (Video Game)
Genre: Angst (just a sprinkle), Disaster cop Harry, Drama, Electrochemistry being Electrochemistry, Fluff, Friendship, Harry's composure gets tested too but he does much worse than Kim, Harry's voices having a field day, Humor, Kim's composure gets Tested, M/M, POV Party (as always), Trant being a godsend, emotionally constipated detectives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22843702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luminality/pseuds/luminality
Summary: Precinct 41 throws a welcome party for Kim. Harry tries to find the perfect gift.(occurs before the events ofRooftop Retrograde)
Relationships: Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi
Series: The 41st Fandango [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625734
Comments: 32
Kudos: 190





	1. The Operation

“Patrol Officer,” Jean Vicquemare says from the podium, “what’s the status of the target?”

“All clear, Sir,” Judit Minot says from the front row. “He’s back at the 57th today to pick up his personal items from there.”

Jean nods. “Sergeant McLaine, does the target know of our intentions?”

“Nuh-uh,” Chester McLaine says with a lazy grin. “We’ve all kept it tip-top secret from him. ‘Course, it helped that Dick Mullen here only found out about our plans before this meeting---”

Jean glances at the corner of the room, where his former partner, Harry Du Bois, is frowning indignantly in his seat.

“I wouldn’t have told him anything!” Harry says, with a whine in his voice that attached a silent _, “... maybe,”_ to the end of his sentence.

Jean sighs. The entire Division’s decision to withhold information from Harry was based on the fact that ever since Lt. Kim Kitsuragi’s transfer to Precinct 41, he and Harry were practically attached to the hip. Within his first week at the precinct, the lieutenant quickly established a reputation among the officers as a living saint by exercising a seemingly endless amount of patience towards Harry, who had taken it upon himself to follow Kim around like an eager, unkempt puppy.

“It’s all right. I actually enjoy his company,” Kim admitted to Jean during one of their shared breaks. “And besides, if he’s with me, then he’s not bothering anyone else.”

 _Namely, you_ , Kim had deliberately not said to Jean.

Jean admitted that the lieutenant made a _very_ good point.

At the same time, Jean also had to repeatedly tell himself that Harry’s attachment to Kim was of no consequence to him whatsoever. After all, he had only been Harry’s partner during the six nightmare-ish years when Harry was hell-bent on destroying himself and everyone around him, while Kim had only been Harry’s partner during that fateful week in Martinaise.

So yes, Jean was definitely okay with the attention that Harry was showering on Kim.

Yes.

Definitely okay.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Jean looks around the room and takes stock of the meeting’s attendees. Practically the whole Major Crimes Division was there, except for Kim. There was Harry, Chester, Mack, Judit, and Trant, who had enthusiastically agreed to be part of this whole operation. Jules couldn’t afford to leave the Communications Post, and Nix Gottlieb begged off from the meeting, saying that he was too old to be planning parties. The lazareth did say that he was willing to provide emergency medical support during the night of the party. After all, the last time that they had one of these things, someone had too many drinks and gracefully fell on a knife---

Jean kind of felt sorry for everything that Lazareth Gottlieb had to put up from the precinct, but then again, Jean had to put up with the exact same things too.

So, they were even.

“Alright, let’s get this damn thing started,” Jean says, smacking a gavel onto the podium. “Commencing the planning and strategy meeting for _Operation: Welcome to Precinct 41, Lt. Kim Kitsuragi_.”

Trant raises his hand.

“Yes, Heidelstam?”

“Thanks, Jean. Did we really have to give this thing an official name? It’s a bit... excessive, isn’t it?”

“Everyone else seemed okay with it. We already used, ‘ _Operation: Get Absolutely Shitfaced_ ,' for the New Year's Party, so we had to be creative for this one.”

Before Trant could object to Jean’s constant use of profanity, Judit saves the day by raising her hand.

“Yes, Patrol Officer Minot.”

“I’ve already booked the catering, Sir. They’re asking if we need utensils, and also if we’d like tables and chairs.”

“Oh, I can bring utensils!” Mack volunteers. “My momma loves it when we have parties like these over here.”

“Thank you, Torson. And no need for tables and chairs, Patrol Officer.”

Judit nods and scribbles something into her notebook.

“Alright. Does anyone else have any updates?”

Chester raises his hand.

“Go ahead, McLaine.”

“What kind of booze does the lieutenant like? I’m about to go shopping tonight, and I ain’t willing to shell out cold, hard cash for something that he won’t like.”

Jean’s about to point out that Chester will get reimbursed by the precinct for his expenses when suddenly, Harry chimes in.

“Kim doesn’t drink,” he says.

Everyone turns to look at Harry.

Flustered by the sudden attention, Harry puts his hands up in front of him. “I uh. What I meant was that... I’ve never seen him drink before, and he’s pretty uptight about vices in general.”

 _Unlike you_ , everyone in the room thinks.

Harry sweats bullets.

“But... maybe he does drink? I don’t know. I might be wrong.”

Jean frowns. If Kim didn’t drink alcohol, then this party would make its mark on Precinct 41’s history by being the first ever _sober_ party. No drunken fights. No shameful slurs. No inebriated wailing of old disco songs.

Jean tries to imagine the last time that he was at a party like that, and fails miserably.

“Chester, go buy whatever you want,” he quickly says. “If the lieutenant doesn’t drink, then _by hell_ , everyone else will.”

McLaine gives a joyful whoop. “Yeah! You got it, Boss!”

Harry looks like he’s about to protest, but he clams up in the face of Chester’s enthusiasm and the withering glare that Jean gives him.

“Anyone else have something to say?” Jean asks.

Mack raises his hand.

Jean ignores him. “No questions? Alright then---”

Mack waves his hand so vigorously that he almost smacks Chester on the head. “Boss! I have a question!”

Jean sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t get paid enough for this.

“Yes, Torson. Your mother can make vanilla waffles for the party.”

Mack gasps. His eyes become as big as saucers.

“Boss,” he says with awe and wonder. “How---how’d you know that I was going to ask that???”

“Because you always ask that in every party, you numbskull,” Chester says.

Mrs. Torson was a sweet, little old lady who was just a bit less than half the size of her son. She loved the fact that her baby boy --- and Jean still has _conniptions_ that she calls Mack that --- is a police officer, and has taken it upon herself to support the RCM’s peacekeeping efforts by making devastatingly delicious vanilla waffles for their parties.

Jean resolutely does not tell her that her son’s main peacekeeping method is to smash criminals’ skulls against the nearest brick wall, or in the absence of any available walls, against the nearest other skull. If that criminal is particularly unlucky, that skull would be to be Torson’s own skull, which happens to be denser than most brick walls that Jean has encountered.

“Any other questions?”

Trant raises his hand again.

“Heidelstam.”

“Just a suggestion, Lieutenant,” Trant says with an earnest smile. “Maybe we can all pitch in so that we can buy a gift for Lt. Kitsuragi? Gifts have been scientifically proven to be one of the most effective ways to boost camaraderie between colleagues, especially in stressful occupations like law enforcement.”

Once his brain catches up with everything that Trant just said, Jean mulls over the suggestion.

Meanwhile, he thinks that if someone could invent a way to convert earnestness and good will into a power source, Trant could light up the entire precinct. Maybe the entire city block, even.

“I don’t see why not,” Jean says carefully. “But we might as well have a vote. Everyone in favor, raise your hand.”

Everyone raises their hand.

... Well, almost everyone.

Jean’s eyebrow twitches.

“Lt. Double-Yefreitor Du Bois,” he says. “Do you have any objections against Civilian Volunteer Heidelstam’s suggestion?”

Startled, Harry blinks and straightens up in his chair.

“No! I’m not against it,” Harry says. Then, he sheepishly scratches his head. “It’s just that... Erm. I was planning on buying my own gift... For Kim, I mean.”

Jean lets that statement hang in the air for a moment.

Then, he says, “In that case, we’ll go ahead with Heidelstam’s suggestion. But,” he gives Harry a pointed look, “maybe you can enlighten us all by telling us what Lt. Kitsuragi likes?”

For the second time in the meeting, all eyes in the room turn to Harry, who visibly starts to sweat.

Jean tries to stifle the smug, malicious pleasure that he feels upon seeing Harry’s discomfort.

“After all,” Jean says, twisting the proverbial knife, “you’re the one who’s spent the most time with Lt. Kitsuragi. Why, you practically spent most of your time here at the precinct with him---”

All eyes in the room start to ping-pong between Jean and Harry. The tension is almost palpable --- Judit’s face is drawn with worry, Chester gulps nervously, Trant frowns at Jean’s tirade, and Mack seems to have no idea what’s going on.

Jean ignores all of that and presses on. “—so please. Tell us what kind of gift Lt. Kitsuragi would appreciate. _Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor_.”

Harry winces at hearing his title being said with such spite.

Jean stands back and crosses his arms, waiting for Harry’s answer.

Harry gulps.

“Well. Kim. Uh, Kim... likes cars.”

The silence that rings out in the room at this revelation is deafening.

Jean arches an eyebrow.

“McLaine,” he says.

Chester jumps in his chair, terrified of being pulled into whatever it is that’s happening. “Uh. Yes, Boss?”

“Did you know that about the lieutenant?” Jean asks, while keeping his gaze leveled at Harry.

Chester scratches his head. “Yeah, ‘course I did. The lieutenant’s practically a member of the mechanics team already, with all the time he spends with them.”

“Okay,” Jean says. “Anything else that we _don’t_ know about the lieutenant that you can share with us, Detective?” he asks Harry, who’s looking more and more panicked by the second.

“Yeah, like, what’s his favorite color?” Mack says, still completely oblivious to the tension in the room. “He keeps on wearing that orange jacket of his, so maybe it’s orange? But his notebook’s always blue, so...”

“Thank you for those astute observations, Torson,” Jean says, before redirecting his attention to Harry.

“Uh. Well... Kim likes listening to Speedfreaks FM---”

Chester whistles in admiration. “Wow, really? That stuff’s _nasty_. I never figured he’d be _that_ kind of guy---”

“He’s not!” Harry objects. “Well. He is. Kind of. Only when he’s driving, though.”

“You still haven’t answered my question, Detective,” Jean reminds him.

Just when Harry looks like he’s about to implode with shame and embarrassment, Trant steps in to salvage the situation.

“Lt. Vicquemare, the Lt. Double-Yefreitor’s just recovered from the severe physical and psychological damage that he received in Martinaise---”

 _Mostly from his own hands_ , everyone else in the room thinks.

“--- so it’s understandable if his memory isn’t in good working order yet.” Trant gives Harry a bright smile. “I’m sure we’ll be able to figure out an appropriate gift for Lt. Kitsuragi with our combined efforts.”

Harry gives Trant a look so grateful that he looks like he’s about to cry.

Jean ignores the twinge of remorse that shoots through his heart at this sight.

“Hm. Very well then,” Jean says. “If anyone has a suggestion on what gift we can get for Lt. Kitsuragi, please let Patrol Officer Minot know after this meeting.”

“What if we just get him a mug?” Chester suggests.

Jean feels the beginnings of a migraine build up behind his eyes.

“No, McLaine. We will not give the lieutenant a _fucking mug_ as a welcome gift.”

Chester gapes at him. “But---”

“Meeting adjourned,” Jean says before anyone else comes up with more brilliant ideas. “The party’s in two days, so make sure to have everything ready by then.”

As the group disperses, Jean stays behind to fix his notes. He’s about to leave when he notices that someone else has stayed behind with him.

Harry looks so uncomfortable that he seems ready to bolt out of the meeting room.

Jean gives him a deadpan stare.

“Jean, I---” Harry starts to say, but Jean holds up a hand to stop him.

“Harry. It’s okay. You did your best.” Even as the words leave his mouth, Jean knows that he doesn’t believe a single one of them.

Harry closes his mouth. The look that he gives Jean is filled with so much remorse, hurt, and disappointment that Jean is almost tempted to apologize to him.

Almost.

“Good luck finding that gift,” Jean says, as he walks past Harry. "Looks like you'll need it."

As he closes the door behind him, Jean hears Harry slump back into his chair.

Jean tells himself that he doesn’t care what Harry does, or how Harry feels. He tells himself that Harry deserves all of this after everything that he made Jean go through.

As Lt. Jean Vicquemare walks away from the meeting room, he almost believes the lies that he’s telling himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work serves as a much-needed fluff break (for both writer and readers alike) from the angst-train known as Overcoming Oblivion. Again, this fic happens _before_ Rooftop Retrograde, which explains Jean's lingering bitterness towards Harry in this chapter. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the rest of the work, and thanks for reading! <3


	2. The Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tries to find a gift for Kim at the shopping district.

**SHIVERS** [Medium: Success] – Lying on the western edge of Grand Couron, the shops and stalls of Boogie Street occupy the banks of a small branch of the river Esperance. Day and night are meaningless here. Every hour, every day, there are storekeepers hawking their wares with almost inhuman stamina, some of them undoubtedly running on a near-toxic cocktail of amphetamines

Here, profit is truly king, and the frail flesh of one’s physical body is just another object to be sacrificed on its golden altars.

**YOU** – You’ve been wandering around Boogie Street for the past hour on a futile search for a potential gift for your par--- for Kim. 

**ESPRIT DE CORPS** [Medium: Success] – As per RCM protocol, Lt. Kitsuragi ceased to be your partner with the conclusion of the Hanged Man case. Despite his transfer to Precinct 41, it remains to be seen whether he will be officially assigned to become your partner or not.

 **EMPATHY** – The thought of not being partners with Kim fills you with inexplicable dread and sadness.

 **YOU** – I don’t want to be partners with anyone else!

 **ESPRIT DE CORPS** [Easy: Success] – Fortunately, no one else wants to be partners with _you_.

Especially not Lt. Vicquemare.

**EMPATHY** – The thought of Jean not wanting to be partners with you anymore --- well, it makes you sad, but not as sad as not being partners with Kim.

 **AUTHORITY** – Lt. Vicquemare is shameless! He called you out in front of everyone and made a fool out of you!

 **YOU** – I...I deserved that, actually. I’ve made him suffer so much---

 **ESPRIT DE CORPS** – On the bright side, thanks to Lt. Vicquemare’s ... unconventional interrogation methods, you were able to realize something extremely important:

Namely, that even though you've worked with the man for an entire week on a highly dangerous case, you barely know _anything_ about Lt. Kitsuragi.

**SUGGESTION** [Godlike: Failure] – Every time you’ve tried to ask the lieutenant about himself, he always shut you down with the eyebrow---

 **AUTHORITY** [Godlike: Failure] – Ack! The lieutenant’s eyebrow! _Our mortal enemy_.

**SAVOIR FAIRE** [Formidable: Success] – It’s no mean feat to simultaneously hold a full conversation inside your own head while traversing the chaotic maze of vendors, stalls, merchandise, and the occasional live animal that is Boogie Street, but you manage to do so with minimal effort.

 **PERCEPTION (Sight)** [Medium: Success] – Watch out for that chicken!

 **SAVOIR FAIRE** [Formidable: Success] – Without breaking your train of thought, you jump over a chicken that is _literally_ crossing the road.

 **RHETORIC** [Easy: Success] – The world is truly a strange and majestic place.

**YOU** – Wait. So... what _do_ I know about Kim?

 **ESPRIT DE CORPS** [Legendary: Success] – Allow me, Detective.

Lt. Kim Kitsuragi joined the RCM in ’31, where he got stuck in the 57th’s juvie desk for 15 years. Within those years, he infiltrated a pinball ring and cracked the case by training for 9 straight months to become a pinball champion. This caused him to develop a strange form of PTSD towards juvies and a visceral hatred for pinball. He was finally reassigned to the homicide division, and just last week, he requested to be transferred to the 41st after partnering up with you in the Hanged Man case.

His track record may not be as monumental as yours, but he is, without a doubt, a _damn good_ police officer. 

**INTERFACING** [Medium: Success] – He loves his Kineema more than he does actual people.

 **YOU** – Except for me, of course.

... Right?

 **INTERFACING** – Whatever makes you happy, buddy.

**AUTHORITY** – The lieutenant’s Authority is so high that the mere twitch of his brow is enough to cower the most foolhardy perps into submission. Present company included.

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** – He’s a stick-in-the-mud who smokes only one stick a day, drinks alcohol like --- _never_ , and doesn’t shoot up any drugs. So. Yeah, he’s totally boring.

Oh, and you have a **_gigantic_** crush on him.

**REACTION SPEED** [Impossible: Failure] – A metal pole suddenly appears out of nowhere and rams into your face.

 **PAIN THRESHOLD** [Legendary: Failure] – There goes your nose. And most of your dignity.

 **SAVOIR FAIRE** [Impossible: Failure] – You topple onto the pavement with all the grace and elegance of an overturned cement mixer.

**YOU** – Blinking away the stars that dance before your eyes, you try to scramble up from the pavement. Thankfully, the stop-sign that collided with you offers its sturdy assistance and helps you up.

 **PERCEPTION** [Medium: Success] – A woman walks past you and pulls her little boy closer to her. “Come closer dear, we have to stay away from the crazy man,” she says warily.

**YOU** \- I have a... **_what_**???

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** – A gigantic crush. On Kim.

 **DRAMA** [Easy: Success] – The truth, si--

 **YOU** – BUT BUT--- He’s--- he’s a **_guy_**!!!!

All of the voices suddenly go quiet.

In the strange, heavy silence that ensues in your head, you feel all of the them look meaningfully at a particular, eight-hour-long thought project in your Thought Cabinet...

**HOMO-SEXUAL UNDERGROUND** – What? What’d I do?

**YOU** \- ... Shit.

**COMPOSURE** [Godly: Failure] – You’re painfully aware of how your face is heating up like the surface of a small sun.

 **PAIN THRESHOLD** [Godly: Failure] - Are human hearts supposed to go this fast? Or are you having cardiac arrest again? Because your chest is feeling awfully tight, and your vision is swimming---

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** – Yeah, you’re doomed. But you know what? You can make all of this distress go away by taking a nice, little detour to that bar over there...

**VOLITION** [Godlike: Success] - You can go get a drink **_after_** you buy the lieutenant's present.

 **YOU** \- The realization that you have yet to find a gift for Kim promptly douses your mortification. 

**ELECTROCHEMISTRY** [Godly: Failure] - Dammit! What does a guy have to do to get soused around here????

**DRAMA** [Easy: Success] - This is no mere gift--- This should be the material manifestation of our undying devotion and passionate love for the dear lieutenant!!!

 **CONCEPTUALIZATION** [Easy: Success] - This present has to be so meaningful that the lieutenant cannot help but interpret it as the canvas upon which you have illustrated the very depths of your feelings for him!

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** [Easy: Success] - Get him something kinky! Like---

**VOLITION** [Godlike: Success] - Does **_anyone else_** have any suggestions? Literally. _**Anyone**. **Else**._

 **LOGIC** [Easy: Success] - He always uses a notebook. Maybe you can get him a spare one?

 **HALF-LIGHT** [Easy: Success] - You could give him that Pissf****t jacket that you swiped from that punk back in Martinaise. He said that he preferred that one, right?

**YOU** \- Maybe I could just... get him a mug?

Once again, a deafening silence rings out within your skull. This time, it's heavily tinged with disbelief and disapproval.

**YOU** \- Okay, no mug then. 

**PERCEPTION (Hearing)** [Legendary: Success] - Suddenly, you overhear a conversation between a group of teenagers who are standing in front of a car a few feet away from you. Prompted by a mysterious curiosity, you listen in more closely... 

**SNOT-NOSED PUNK** \- "Wow man, those new wheels look dope!!!"

 **WHINY RICH KID** \- "Thanks man. My dad got me these new babes yesterday. You wouldn't believe how much dough he had to shell out for these!!!"

 **GLAMOROUS GROUPIE** \- "Are they chrome-plated? This is so _lit_ , man!!!"

**YOU** \- What are they talking about?

 **INTERFACING** [Formidable: Success] - They're probably talking about the accessories on the Whiny Rich Kid's vehicle, which has been modified so much that it looks more like a mansion with wheels than an actual vehicle. 

**YOU** \- Accessories, huh...

**LOGIC** [Godlike: Success] - Accessories... 

Wait.

Accessories.

ACCESSORIES.

**YOU** \- Suddenly, an idea flashes into your head so brightly that you literally hold up a hand to shield your eyes from it.

 **LOGIC** \- Okay, that made no sense at all, since the idea was _inside_ your own head. 

**HAND-EYE COORDINATION** [Godly: Failure] - Sorry, got mixed up for a moment there. 

**PERCEPTION** [Medium: Success] - The people around you are starting to stare at the police detective who seems to be shielding his eyes against a perfectly un-bright stop sign in front of him.

 **COMPOSURE** [Heroic: Success] - Slowly, you lower your hand with as much deliberation and poise as you possibly can. 

**YOU** \- "Nothing to see here, people! Just a ... perfectly normal stop sign. Yes. Perfectly normal."

 **PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT** [Easy: Success] - You pat the stop-sign in what you hope to be a sane manner.

 **YOU** \- "Yes. Totally normal."

**VOLITION** \- Please stop talking.

**HALF-LIGHT** \- You need to go _now_!!! You need to get _those_ accessories back from---!!!

 **PERCEPTION (Sight)** [Medium: Success] - After frantically looking around you, you manage to spot a line of taxi cabs lined up at the end of the street. 

**PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT** [Formidable: Success] - You sprint forward so fast that your tie smacks you on the cheek. 

**REACTION SPEED** \- Don't stop don't stop don't stop don't stop don't stop ---

**PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT** [Formidable: Success] - You make a daredevil leap--- 

\--- and dive headfirst into the (thankfully) open rear door of the first taxi in line.

**YOU** \- "To Martinaise," you tell the shocked driver.

"And step on it!!!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point, Harry's voices just start writing themselves. Also, you should be able to predict Harry's gift for Kim from a mile away...
> 
> Last chapter: The party and its aftermath, in Kim's POV.


	3. Welcome to Precinct 41, Lt. Kitsuragi

When Lt. Kim Kitsuragi requested to be transferred to Precinct 41, he expected the transition to be challenging, if not downright difficult. After all, he had spent nearly two decades—literally his entire career—in Precinct 57, and Kim owes everything that he knows about being a police officer to that station. 

It was in the 57th that Kim met Isaac “Eyes” Legrand, who eventually became his mentor and partner before Eyes’ untimely death in ’46. It was there that he learned the true meaning of grit, after enduring the purgatory of those 15 years at the juvie desk without any sign of reprieve or promotion. It was there that, after nine months of ruthless dedication to mastering the infantile insanity known as pinball, Kim felt the earth-shattering triumph of finally proving to the entire precinct that no one, absolutely _no one_ , fucks with Kim Kitsuragi. 

So yes, Kim owes a lot to the 57th.

But as the years went by, Kim had felt increasingly weary and dissatisfied with his post. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help but feel that the 57th, for all that it had taught him, was merely a halfway-house, and not a home--- that he was meant to use every ounce of patience, grit, and discipline that he had learned in those eighteen years for his true destiny, which lay far beyond the duraluminum walls of the 57th’s station hall.

Back then, of course, Kim had absolutely no idea that said destiny would come in the form of a vomit-stained lieutenant double-yefreitor with retrograde amnesia and late-stage alcoholism.

But. Such was life.

* * *

Today marks the second week since Kim's transfer was approved, and he spends most of it back at the 57th to tie up some loose ends. He packs up the last remaining items from his desk and his locker, then heads off to the precinct cafeteria to have lunch with Alice DeMettrie, the 57th's Communications Officer and one of his few close friends at work. 

"I can't believe that you're actually going to transfer out of here," she tells him over their food. "What does the 41st have that we don't?" 

Detecting the hurt tone in Alice's voice, Kim sets down his utensils and does his best to pacify her. 

"Alice... It's not about the pissing contest. The 41st is just as flawed as the 57th. In fact," he says, thinking of a certain eccentric detective who almost single-handedly destroyed an entire division, "they might actually have bigger problems than we do. But..."

Alice narrows her eyes at Kim, daring him to continue.

Kim sighs. "Okay, let me put it this way. Why did you choose to marry Matthieu?"

Alice blinks. 

"What? That has nothing to do with---"

"Alice, please," Kim says. "Just... humor me on this."

She stares at him for a while before sighing. "As you well know, _Lieutenant,_ " she says, and Kim cannot help but smile fondly at her pettiness. "I married my husband because he's sweet, caring, responsible, intelligent, and unfairly attractive. Now, can you please tell me how this is related to my question?"

"All in due time, Officer DeMettrie. I just have one more question," Kim says, leaning forward to rest on his elbows. "How did you know that you were ready to marry him?"

Alice frowns at him. 

_Okay, I'll play along for just a bit longer_ , her look says. 

_Thank you_ , Kim's smile replies.

"I guess... it just felt right," Alice finally answers. "It's hard to put it into words, but it just felt... _right_."

Kim nods. 

"Exactly. And that's my answer to your question too."

Before Alice could express her incredulity, Kim raises a hand to stop her. "Alice. I'm serious. You've known me since you were just a little girl visiting your father here at the precinct. In all those years, have you ever heard me say anything about leaving the 57th?"

Alice mulls over his question. "No..." she says carefully.

"Right. That's because I never thought of leaving," he says. "I thought that I would live out my whole career here until I retired, or until I got killed in the line of duty. Whichever came first."

Sadness tinges Alice's eyes, and Kim knows that they're both thinking of the same person.

"What I mean to say is... I'm joining the 41st because I truly believe that this is the right thing for me to do---"

"And we all know what a stickler Kim Kitsuragi is when it comes to doing the right thing," Alice says fondly. The smile on her face is small and sad.

Kim returns her smile. "Yeah," he admits with a resigned shrug. "That's just the way I am." 

Alice looks at him for a moment longer as she digests his answer...

Suddenly, her smile turns impish. 

"Okay, Kim. Spit it out. Who is he?"

Now it's Kim's turn to blink at her.

"What?"

"Oh no, mister," Alice says, her eyes narrowing with glee. "You don't get to ask me why I married my husband and get away that easily. It's a guy, isn't it? From the 41st. _He's_ the _real_ reason why you're transferring."

Kim rarely loses his composure, but Alice's question catches him so off-guard that he can't help but gape at her.

"Wait..." Alice says, as if recalling something from the recent past. "No. Way," she gasps, her eyes widening with realization. "It's that _Firewatch_ guy, isn't it? The one who radioed me from your Kineema during that case in Martinaise?"

"What?" Kim says, shaken out of his stupor. "You mean Harry? No, that's ridiculo---"

"Wait. Harry? You mean Harry Du Bois? Like, _the_ Harrier Du Bois? The legendary walking disaster from the 41st???"

"Yes, but---"

"Oh, Kim," Alice says with a look of absolute pity and concern. "I always knew that you had a strange taste in men, but I gotta say..." She shakes her head mournfully. "You've got your work cut out for you with this one."

Kim isn't a religious man, but he sends up a silent, desperate prayer to whatever deity that's listening.

_Please don't let my ears turn red. Just. **Please.**_

His agnosticism is reinforced when Alice gives a delighted squeal. "Your ears!!! So it's _true_!!!"

Kim groans and buries his face in his arms.

* * *

It's late afternoon by the time Kim arrives at the old repurposed silk mill that serves as Precinct 41's station house. Based on how empty the parking lot is, most of the other officers have already gone home.

Most, but not all of them.

As Kim pulls over, he sees Lt. Vicquemare's Coupris '40, with its telltale dent on the back fender, as well as Trant's Merck KK-21 still parked in their respective slots. He doesn't make too much out of it, as both men were prone to spending late nights at the precinct. 

Out of instinct, Kim wonders if Harry's still at the office too--- 

_Stop that_ , Kim thinks to himself. _You joined this precinct because it was the right thing to do, not because of some hotshot detective who couldn't even remember his own name..._

After convincing himself of that lie, Kim steps out of his Kineema, lugs out the box containing his personal belongings, and gets ready for the long climb ahead of him. 

* * *

Ever since his transfer, Kim has made it a point to take the stairs up to the fifth floor, where the Major Crimes Division was located. This decision was prompted by the painful lesson that Kim learned during the Hanged Man case, namely, that the legendary Jamrock Shuffle was not just eccentric, it was also _exhausting_. He still remembers how difficult it was to keep up with Harry as the other man ran, roamed, jogged, and sidled his way through the freezing and rugged terrain of Martinaise like a tireless engine that ran on nothing but oxygen, alcohol, and cigarettes.

It was a hard lesson, but it compelled Kim to find creative ways to intentionally build his physical endurance and stamina. 

Like taking five flights of stairs with a heavy box in his arms, for example.

By the time he reaches the fifth floor landing, Kim is winded, but to a much lesser degree than he would have been a week ago. He realizes that if he keeps this up, he should be able to do the Jamrock Shuffle as adeptly as everyone else in the precinct in no time.

... Not that Kim is in a hurry. The Jamrock Shuffle might produce amazing results during investigations, but it's conspicuously lacking in the coolness department. 

Adjusting his grip on the box, Kim strides into the Division office---

"SURPRISE!!!!!!!!!!!"

_Pop! Pop! Pop!_

\--- and promptly receives a faceful of glitter and confetti. 

Any other man would have dropped the box out of surprise, but Lt. Kim Kitsuragi is not like other men. 

Instead, he blinks and stares at the work area, which has been transformed into a colorful disaster zone of banderitas, balloons, and acres of orange crepe paper. A white banner hangs from the ceiling, with the words, "WELCOME TO PRECINCT 41 LT. KITSURAGI" written on it in navy-blue capital letters.

Astonished, Kim looks at his colleagues, who are all standing by the door. Trant, Judit, and Chester have empty party poppers in their hands, and Mack is enthusiastically tooting a party horn. Jean is... well, Jean seems to be doing his best not to look like he wants to melt into a grumpy, mortified puddle on the ground, which Kim figures is as close as Jean can get to actually smiling.

Every single one of them is wearing a party hat, and Kim's eyes lands on Mack Torson, whose party hat is so tiny compared to his skull that he ends up looking like a bald, muscular unicorn.

Kim realizes that his mouth is hanging open, and shuts it with a click.

"Welcome to your party, Lt. Kitsuragi," Jean says. "Good job not dropping that box, by the way."

"Aw, man," Chester pouts. "I can't believe that he didn't get surprised! I would've totally dropped that box!" 

"Hope the party poppers weren't too loud, Sir," Judit says apologetically. 

"WAFFLE TIME!!!" Mack shouts with the enthusiasm of a starving ten-year-old.

"Let me help you with that, Lieutenant," Trant says as he steps forward and takes the box from Kim's arms. 

"Oh... thank you," Kim manages to say, while still trying to process what the hell is going on.

In his entire career in the RCM, Kim has only had one party thrown for him, and that was the promotion party that Alice and a few colleagues had arranged for him after he became a lieutenant. It was a small, simple affair, just a few trays of food in the break room and some kind words from everyone present. 

This... is completely unnecessary.

And childish.

And unprofessional.

But it is also the most thoughtful gesture that Kim has ever received from any of his fellow police officers. 

"Alright, let's get this party started!" Jean says with a clap. "Torson, bring out the food and utensils! McLaine, bring out the drinks! Minot, clear some tables! And Heidelstam, put down that fucking box somewhere where no one can trip on it and crack their skull!"

As everyone rushes to comply with Jean's commands, Kim realizes that there's someone missing... 

"Where's Detective Du Bois?" he asks Jean.

Jean winces. 

"Uh. Well. He's uh..." Jean trails off, and Kim tries to ignore the sinking feeling that he has in his chest. 

"...He's late! That's it, he's just. Uh, late," Jean says in a desperate effort to salvage the situation.

“Oh.” Kim does his best to hide his disappointment, but he sees Jean wince even more.

“It’s all right, Lieutenant,” Kim says as he gives Jean what he hopes to be a reassuring smile. “I’m sure that the Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor has more ... pressing matters to attend to right now.”

_It’s no big deal_ , Kim tells himself. After all, Harry has his own life to live, and just because he and Kim were partners in Martinaise doesn't mean that they're still going to be partners now. Much less friends.

Besides, Kim is perfectly capable of enjoying this thoughtfully planned party even if Harry isn't here. 

So, Kim definitely isn’t sad that Harry isn’t here for his welcoming party.

Yes.

Definitely not sad.

"Lieutenant, you have to try my momma's waffles!!!" Mack shouts as he shoves a plate of fluffy waffles into Kim's hands. "She made them with blueberries! Just for you!!!"

Flabbergasted by the larger man's enthusiasm, Kim lets himself be dragged into the center of the room, where the other officers have already taken their seats around a cleared desk. 

Kim doesn't see the pained look on Jean's face, or the flash of anger in Jean's eyes as he glares at the door.

* * *

"Okay, everyone!" Trant says as the group continues to stuff their faces with Mrs. Torson's terrific waffles. "It's time for the lieutenant to open his gifts!"

Kim pauses mid-chew to give Trant a questioning look. _Gifts_?

"You see, Lieutenant, we decided to prepare gifts for you in order to increase our intra-division camaraderie. Originally, we were supposed to pitch in and buy just one gift for you, but then we weren't able to reach consensus---"

"What he means is that we couldn't make up our damn minds about what gift to give you," Jean translates for Kim.

Trant gives Jean a disapproving look, but continues. "---So we ended up buying individual gifts for you instead. The more, the merrier, after all!"

The smile on Trant's face is so bright that Kim almost shields his eyes from it.

"So, who wants to go first?" Trant asks.

Chester raises his hand. "Oh, me, me!"

"Go ahead, Sergeant!"

Chester puts his plate on the desk and grabs a small box from underneath his chair. It's wrapped in plain, white office bond paper.

"Sorry, I wasn't able to wrap it up all nice, but I hope ya like it, Lieutenant!" Chester beams as he hands his gift over to Kim.

"Thanks, Chester," Kim says sincerely. He takes his time peeling off the tape from the sides of the wrapping paper---

Jean rolls his eyes. "We'll be here all fucking night," he mutters under his breath.

Trant shoves an elbow into Jean's side.

Kim opens the box. 

Then, he frowns.

"It's a mug," he says as he reaches into the box.

Jean's jaw almost drops to the ground. 

Oblivious to his commanding officer's reaction, Chester gives Kim a thumbs-up. "Yeah! Because like, what's an office party without a gift mug, right? But read what's on it, Lieutenant!"

Kim takes out the mug and examines it. It's made of plain white ceramic, with the following words printed on one side---

**WORLD'S**

**BEST**

**~~DAD~~ COP**

Both the line across "DAD" and the word "COP" seem to have been scribbled on using thick, black permanent marker. 

Kim stares at the mug for a long while, desperately trying to stifle the laughter that threatens to burst forth from his mouth. 

"Thank you, Sergeant," Kim enunciates carefully. "I'll make sure to use this mug for my morning coffee."

"Woohoo! Told ya he'd like it, Mack!"

Even from where Kim is seated, he can feel the furious malice emanating from Jean. 

He almost feels sorry for Chester.

Almost.

"Okay, who's next?" Trant says before Jean does anything silly, like strangling a certain red-haired sergeant.

The rest of the group take turns giving Kim their gifts. Mack gives him a long cardboard canister, and when Kim opens it, he's shocked to find a garish Speedfreaks FM poster, with the stations' iconic DJs flashing identical, obscene finger gestures---

Kim coughs politely and quickly rolls up the poster before anyone else can get a good look at it.

"I have a bunch of posters on my bedroom wall, Lieutenant! So I figured that I should get you one too!" Mack shouts happily.

"Khm. Thank you, Sergeant. I'll ... make sure to put it up. In my bedroom."

Next, Judit shyly hands over a thin, rectangular box. Kim opens it to reveal a thick, refillable notebook and a matching set of high-quality pens. 

"I like taking notes too, Lieutenant, and I can definitely vouch for this brand. The cover's waterproof, and you can just buy extra filler pages if you run out." 

Kim smiles appreciatively at her. "Thank you, Patrol Officer. I've been meaning to buy a new notebook, so thank you for saving me the trouble."

Judit gives him a relieved smile.

"I'll go next, Lieutenant," Trant says. He produces a small box, hardly larger than Kim's hand. When Kim opens it, he marvels at what he sees.

Trant grins. "I noticed that you're a connoisseur of motor vehicles, Lieutenant. It just so happens that my little boy is currently obsessed with model cars, so I decided to get this one for you while we were out shopping."

Hardly believing his eyes, Kim gently takes out an exquisitely made miniature Coupris Kineema from the box. It's perfectly scaled down to the tiniest part, and Kim is certain that it must have cost Trant a small fortune.

"Oh wow, that totally blows my mug out of the water," Chester whispers to Mack.

Kim manages to find his voice again. "Thank you, Civilian Officer. It's... very beautiful."

Trant gives him an earnest smile. "Think nothing of it, Lieutenant. All for the sake of intra-division camaraderie!"

With that, all eyes turn to the last giver of gifts---

Jean lets out a long-suffering sigh.

"Alright. Looks like it's my turn."

He marches up to Kim with the expression of a judge about to deliver the death penalty.

He frowns at Kim for a while, and Kim meets his gaze head-on.

Everyone else in the room begins to sweat nervously. 

Then, just as Trant is about to intervene, Jean takes out a small box from his pocket and hands it over to Kim.

"Welcome to the Precinct, Lieutenant."

Kim takes the box from him carefully. It's small enough to fit snugly into his palm, and he can't help but wonder what it is...

He removes the lid of the box---

\--- and beholds a small, elegant brass-plated lighter.

Kim is... surprised, to say the least. But pleasantly so.

"Harry told me about your nightly cigarette habit," Jean says with a shrug. "I'm a smoker myself, so---" 

"Boss!!! What an awesome gift!!!" Chester yells from over Kim's shoulder.

"Yeah!!!" Mack chimes in from Kim's other shoulder. "Why didn't _we_ get something like this when---"

A vein on Jean's forehead visibly starts to throb. 

Before Jean can give the two sergeants the tongue-lashing of their lives, the door to the Division office suddenly bangs open.

Everyone in the room turns to look---

\--- only to see a panting, dishevelled Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor Harry Du Bois leaning against the doorframe with a large box in his hands.

Kim's heart flutters violently at the sight of Harry.

"So--- Sorry for being so late---" Harry wheezes. He looks towards them---

His eyes meets Kim's.

_Sorry for being late_ , Harry's look says.

 _I'm glad you're here_ , Kim's smile replies. 

"Well, well. Look who's finally decided to grace us with his presence," Jean says as he glares furiously at his former partner.

"Sorry!" Harry says again, as he staggers towards their desk. "I didn't expect to have such a hard time finding a box for these---"

"Ah, you're just in time, Detective!" Trant exclaims, effectively cutting off the venomous remark that Jean was about to launch at Harry. "We've just finished giving our gifts to the Lieutenant. Please come over and give him your present!"

Sweating with exertion, Harry sets the box down on the desk with a heavy thump. It's a relatively large package that easily takes up half of the desk, and the box itself is made of sturdy cardboard. The only embellishment is a bright orange ribbon tied around it.

Propelled by collective curiosity, the entire squad moves closer to the desk. 

"What do you think it is, Chester?" Mack asks in a hushed tone.

"It's a bomb, Mack. Pretty sure it's a bomb," Chester says with a resolute nod.

"Shut your goddamn traps, you idiots," Jean growls. 

"I uh, didn't have time to wrap it," Harry says sheepishly, giving Kim a look so nervous yet eager that Kim barely stifles the urge to smile fondly at him. "But... I hope you like it, Kim."

For the second time that day, Kim desperately hopes that his ears aren't broadcasting his feelings to the whole world.

He stands up and begins untying the ribbon---

Beside him, Harry practically vibrates with tense anticipation.

“Go and open it already, Lieutenant!” Chester yells before Jean smacks him at the back of the head. "Owwww! What was that for, Boss???"

Jean ignores him, his eyes focused on Kim and the box.

Kim sets the ribbon aside. 

He lifts the lid---

Awed silence descends upon the entire group.

Judit raises a hand to her mouth. Chester and Mack look flabbergasted. Trant says a hushed, "Oh my..." Even Jean looks surprised. 

Harry glances anxiously between Kim and the box. 

Kim... forgets to breathe.

Within the box, lying in an absurd amount of white crepe paper, is a full, gleaming, silver-edged set of Coupris Mk. VII spinner hubcaps. 

Kim stares at them for a full minute.

He knows these hubcaps. He knows where they came from.

He remembers the inner battle that he waged with himself before he gave them up. He remembers telling himself that they were a frivolous attachment, and that it would be the height of selfishness to keep them for himself when they could secure someone a warm bed to sleep in on a freezing night.

But most of all, he remembers all of his misgivings being instantly dispelled by the mind-blowing gratitude of the broken, disheveled man whom he gave these hubcaps to. 

Slowly, Kim tears his gaze away from the hubcaps...

And looks at that man again.

Harry gives him a nervous, but brilliant smile.

"Welcome to the precinct, Kim," Harry says.

In that luminous moment, Kim realizes that while he had expected his transition to the 41st to be challenging, he had never imagined that it would feel like...

Coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Writing fic for this fandom takes a _lot_ of detective work. Sometimes, it feels like trying to make a furnace from just a few matchsticks. [The Disco Elysium Wiki](https://discoelysium.gamepedia.com/Disco_Elysium_Wiki) has been my go-to reference for information about in-game characters and locales that we don't get to see much of in-game (e.g. Alice, Boogie Street, etc.), so I highly encourage checking it out!
> 
> 2) Between Jean, Harry, and Kim, I find Kim to be the hardest one to write, POV-wise. Writing Kim takes much more restraint than either Jean or Harry, but it's a great way of challenging me to write beyond my comfort zone (i.e. Harry's voices).
> 
> 3) I cried while writing Kim's last few lines. Dammit, feelings!
> 
> 4) Aaaand there's two more chapters coming up! It'll be about the aftermath of the party. Basically, Kim is going to have an ... interesting time. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! <3


	4. The Afterparty: Part I

Within the ranks of the RCM, the officers of the 41st have an almost mythical reputation as the best of the best and the baddest of the badasses. This is probably due to the fact that among all of the precincts, Precinct 41 remains by far the most prestigious yet hellish station to work in. Headed by the indomitable Captain Ptolemy Pryce, the 41st is in charge of enforcing a semblance of peace and order in the funky-baby holocaust zone known as the Jamrock District, with its labyrinth of firetraps, limestone buildings, and the occasional walled-off opium field. 

Before his transfer, Lt. Kim Kitsuragi had been skeptical about the 41st’s reputation. He had always assumed that they were just exaggerated rumors created by underpaid and overworked cops who were desperate to idolize some of their own.

Tonight though, he quickly realizes that those rumors were missing one crucial detail.

Namely, that the officers of the 41st possessed the most insatiable livers in the whole of Revachol West.

“It’s Booze Time!!!” Chester McLaine hollers shortly after Kim finishes opening all of his gifts. “Come on, Lieutenant! We’ve set up a bar and everything!”

Kim is about to tell Chester that he doesn’t drink when suddenly---

A big, warm hand lands on his shoulder. 

Kim's breath hitches in his throat.

When he turns to look at Harry, the other man's eyes are large and pleading. 

“Come on, Kim,” Harry says. “Just for tonight?”

If this were any other night, Kim would have shrugged off Harry's hand and given him a polite, but firm, "No." Much like his nightly cigarette, his abstinence from alcohol is both a matter of personal pride as well as an act of merciless self-mastery. Kim has too much on the line --- his professionalism, his composure, his reputation. And he can't afford to lose any of these in front of anyone, especially not in front of his new colleagues.

But then... 

Kim's eyes stray over to the open box on the desk, with its gleaming, silver-rimmed contents... 

Beside him, Harry's lower lip quivers ever so slightly...

Something within Kim snaps. 

"Ah, fuck it," he finally mutters. "Let's have some drinks."

The collective cheer that breaks out from the squad almost convinces Kim that he made the right choice.

... Almost.

* * *

Less than an hour later, Kim has the staggering realization that he did not, in fact, make the right choice. 

The first indication of this comes when Chester shows them what drinks they can choose from.

When Kim sees their makeshift bar, he stops in his tracks. 

"What's wrong, Lieutenant?" Judit asks, as if it were completely normal to have two full desks of alcoholic drinks for a welcome party that only had seven attendees. 

"Aw man, don't tell me I forgot something! I made sure to buy at least one of everything, just in case!" Chester says.

Kim silently agrees. It looks like Chester bought at least one bottle of every possible kind of alcoholic drink that could be legally bought within the entire district of Jamrock. 

"McLaine," Jean abruptly calls out. "Did you get---"

"Of course, Boss! Here you go!" Chester tosses a bottle of sherry over to Jean, who catches it adroitly. 

"Oh, thank _Dolores_ ," Jean mutters, Without further ado, he twists the cap off and takes a long, gulping swig like a man dying from thirst. 

"My usual please, Sergeant," Trant says, and Chester gives him an amber bottle of Oranjese craft beer. 

Everyone else gets their own preferred brand of alcohol --- Judit gets a can of Potent Pilsner, Mack hordes a bottle of Pale-Aged Vodka, while Harry...

Harry hesitates.

Kim may not have Harry's insane level of intuition, but he has a pretty good idea of what's going through the other man's head right now. Memories of a trashed motel room, cold wind blowing through a broken window, a sad, sad song about a small, abandoned church...

This time, it's his turn to put a hand on Harry's arm.

"Come on, Detective," Kim says with a small smile. "Just for tonight."

 _I'll watch out for you_ , he adds silently. 

Harry gives him a shaky, but grateful smile, and it takes a few seconds before Kim remembers to let go of Harry's arm.

_Okay, Kitsuragi_ , Kim thinks to himself. _You really, **really** need a drink right now._

"Chester, give me some of that Commodore Red, will you?" Harry says.

"You got it, Mullen!" 

"And uh---" Harry looks over uncertainly at Kim.

"Just a beer for me please, Sergeant," Kim says. 

Chester winks, clicks his tongue, and shoots finger-guns at them before rummaging around for their respective drinks.

Kim arches his eyebrow at Harry. 

_First, the Jamrock Shuffle, and now this?_ he pointedly does not say. 

Harry averts his gaze guiltily.

Once everyone has their drinks, Mack puts on an old disco record --- Ostentatious Orchestrations, Kim guesses --- and bellows out, "LET'S GET WASTED!!!"

And from there, things quickly go downhill.

With the enthusiasm of a pair of college frat boys, Chester and Mack challenge everyone to a drinking contest. Kim begs off, and so does Trant ("Someone has to be sober enough to drive everyone home, after all," he says), but everyone else joins in. Including, to Kim's surprise, Patrol Officer Judit Minot.

"Trant, is Judit---?"

Trant's smile turns slightly mischievous. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about her if I were you, Lieutenant."

Chester arranges five shot glasses in a circle, fills all of them to the brim with tequila, and places the bottle in the middle of the circle. Jean, Harry, Mack, and Judit take their places around the table. 

"Okay," Chester says. "You all know how it goes: Last person standing gets all of their patrol hours divided among the losers next week!!!!"

Kim quickly does the computations in his head. Given the unreasonably large area within Precinct 41's jurisdiction, every officer who isn't currently assigned to a case is required to do at least 20 hours of patrol per week. That means that each loser would get a whopping _five_ additional hours of patrol. 

Kim takes a swig of his beer and pats himself on the back for choosing not to participate in this insanity.

"Alright, I can serve as the referee!" Trant volunteers. He stands closer to the table, where the contestants are staring intensely at each other.

The air is practically _thrumming_ with competitiveness. 

"Ready..."

A drop of sweat trails down Mack's face. Chester narrows his eyes. Judit takes a deep breath. 

"Set..."

Jean cracks his knuckles. Harry furrows his eyebrows in concentration.

"GO!"

Twenty minutes later, the victor takes a languid sip from their 10th shot without looking even the slightest bit flushed. Everyone else is in various states of wretchedness --- Mack's lying spread-eagled on the floor, Chester's draped over a nearby desk, Jean's passed out in a chair, and Harry's snoring on the shots table.

As Kim tries to process what he's just witnessed, Trant shakes his head mournfully. 

"Ah, Patrol Officer. When will they ever learn?"

Judit finishes off her shot before giving them a bashful smile. "It's alright, Sir. Everyone lasted a bit longer this time than they usually do."

When Kim finally gathers his wits again, he can't help look at Judit with frank admiration. 

"Well done, Patrol Officer. If you don't mind me asking, how...?"

"Oh," Judit flushes from Kim's praise. "It's really nothing, Sir. Alcohol tolerance runs through both sides of my family, so I just got really lucky in the genetic lottery."

From the floor, Mack releases a loud snore.

"Yes..." Kim says distantly, as he stares at the unconscious bodies of the division's top officers around him. "That's quite some luck you have there, Officer Minot. Congratulations."

With most of the attendees passed out on various surfaces, there was little else to do but to clean up and figure out how to bring everyone back to their respective homes. 

"After these kinds of events, I usually serve as the chauffeur for Sergeant's Torson, McLaine, and Lieutenant Vicquemare," Trant tells Kim while effortlessly hauling up 320-pounds worth of Mack from the floor. 

"I live pretty close to the precinct, so I just walk home," Judit says. 

Kim considers all of that and asks a painfully obvious question. "So... who usually takes the Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor home?"

Trant and Judit exchange meaningful glances. 

"Well," Trant says carefully, propping Mack on a chair. "Detective Du Bois---"

"He usually prefers---erm, _preferred_ to sleep here in the precinct, Sir," Judit continues. "After... you know."

When Kim realizes what they mean, his heart crumbles in his chest.

He looks over at Harry's sleeping form, and tries to imagine how the other man must have been like during those wild years of heartbreak and despair. Harry must have passed out dead drunk like this pretty often, and his colleagues must have learned that it was safer to leave him alone rather than to rouse another one of his intoxicated tirades. 

Kim imagines the countless nights that Harry spent slumped over a desk, surrounded by empty shot glasses and broken bottles. He imagines the office lights closing one by one, until it's just Harry, sleeping alone in the darkness...

"I'll take him home tonight, Civilian Officer," Kim hears himself say, and he's surprised by the conviction in his own voice.

Both Trant and Judit blink at him, as if they were caught off-guard by Kim's altruism.

Then, a relieved smile crosses Trant's face.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he says sincerely. "That would be very kind of you to do."

* * *

With Trant and Judit's help, Kim manages to load all of his gifts and a softly-snoring Harry onto the backseat of his Kineema. Just as Kim's about to turn on the ignition, he quickly realizes that he forgot to ask Trant a _very_ important question.

Kim looks at the parking lot just in time to see Trant's car disappearing into the distance with its drunken cargo.

He tries not to panic.

 _It's okay_ , he tells himself. _You just forgot to ask Trant where Harry lives. That's all._

His mind races through his options, which are depressingly few.

One, he can leave Harry here in the precinct and go home.

Kim quickly strikes out that option from the list.

Two, he can bring Harry to his apartment.

Three...

Kim stares at his windshield for a long while.

_Three_...

From the backseat, Harry mumbles something incoherent and settles into a more comfortable sleeping position.

Very, very slowly, Kim leans forward and bumps his forehead against his steering wheel while mentally groaning to himself 

Then, before he can change his mind, Kim turns on the ignition, pulls out of the parking lot, and heads home.

* * *

Kim lives in a cheap tenement building on the southern side of Central Jamrock. He's lived there for around five years now, and there are three things that Kim likes about it: First, it has a garage; second, it has a working elevator; and third, it's walking distance to the Revachol Public Library, which is Kim's favorite haunt during the rare moments of free time that he has outside of work. 

As Kim pulls into the garage, he tries to figure out the logistics for Harry's unexpected sleepover. His flat is a modest one-bedroom unit with a small kitchen and a living room. Maybe Harry can take the couch...?

 _No_ , Kim thinks, glancing back and seeing how Harry's legs are awkwardly crammed against the rear door. _Harry's too big for the couch._

So that just leaves---

Kim sighs. 

Then, he parks his Kineema with the single-minded focus of a man who's desperately trying not to imagine whether two people can fit on his bed.

* * *

After a few false starts, Kim finally manages to haul Harry out of his Kineema. He slings one of Harry's arms around his shoulder and proceeds to half-drag and half-carry his sleeping (former) partner towards the lift. On the way up to his floor, Kim leans the both of them against the back of the elevator to give himself a short break. Harry's _heavy,_ and not even two weeks of climbing up five flights of stairs everyday could have prepared Kim's body for this. 

In the narrow enclosure of the lift, Kim becomes acutely aware of Harry's warm, heavy weight flushed against his side---

 _Ding_!

When the lift doors open to Kim's floor, he resolutely does not jump out of his skin.

 _Keep it together, Kitsuragi_ , Kim scolds himself before shouldering Harry's weight again and shuffling towards his apartment.

Opening an apartment door while supporting the full weight of an unconscious cop is challenging, to say the least, but Kim manages to succeed without too much trouble. He steps into the doorway, carefully slips out of his boots and gently kicks the door close with one of his feet.

Then, while waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, Kim takes a deep, steadying breath.

 _Almost there,_ he thinks to himself. 

With utmost care, Kim navigates through the moonlit interior of his apartment, which is as spartan as a military barrack. On the opposite wall from the entrance, a glass sliding door opens out into the small balcony where Kim enjoys his nightly cigarette while reviewing his notes. The living room occupies most of the space in between the entrance and the balcony, and only consists of a gray couch, an armchair, and a low, wooden table. A small dining table and two folding chairs are parked behind the couch, though Kim prefers to eating outside whenever he can. To the left of the living room is the kitchen, which is practically just a tiled counter with a sink and a gas stove installed in it, as well as a small refrigerator humming in the corner. 

Kim's destination is to the right of the living room, and his apartment is so small that he has to move sideways just so he and Harry can fit between the couch and the dining table.

When they finally reach the door to his bedroom, Kim heaves a sigh of relief.

He opens the door. 

It's much darker inside here than the rest of the apartment, but a tiny sliver of moonlight shines through the curtains of the small window beside Kim's bed. The bedroom is just as austere as the rest of the flat. There's a small writing desk by the wall, while a simple wooden cabinet stands beside the door. As he carries Harry into the room, Kim spots a bare patch on his wall that might be big enough to hold, let's say, a certain Speedfreaks FM poster...

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Kim reaches the edge of his bed. His arms are shaking with effort, and his legs are just about ready to give way. Despite this, he tries to lower Harry as gently as possible...

Then, without warning, Harry's hand snags on Kim's jacket.

In that panicked fraction of a second, a single word flashes through Kim's mind:

_SHIT_

The world flips over---

And then....

Kim blinks.

He stares up at his bedroom ceiling...

From over Harry's shoulder...

Which is connected to the rest of Harry's big, warm, heavy body...

That's currently lying...

On top of Kim.

Through an astonishing act of will, Kim succeeds in keeping every muscle of his body as still as humanly possible. 

... But he fails miserably in preventing his heart from hammering in his chest. 

_You don't exist_ , Kim groans to the gods from beneath his snoring prison. _You don't exist, and even if you did, you are absolutely **evil.**_

At that precise moment, Harry lets out a gust of warm breath right into Kim's ear, and Kim has to clamp down on the full-body shudder that threatens to run through him.

 _Scratch_ _that_ , Kim amends. _You **exist** and are absolutely **evil.**_

After a few tense minutes, the shock and mortification that cloud Kim's mind begin to clear away, and he immediately attempts a quick, objective assessment of his situation.

First, his arms are pinned underneath Harry's, and there's no way that he can extricate them without having to push Harry off. 

Second, his legs are tangled with Harry's, and one of his thighs is in a ... compromising position relative to Harry's...

Khm.

Moving on.

If that weren't enough, Harry's sleeping face is just a few inches away from Kim's own. His chin is perched on Kim's shoulder, and gusts of warm breath rhythmically tickle Kim's cheek...

Kim decides that Priority Number One is to keep his eyes locked onto the ceiling, because there is absolutely no way that he will _not_ be tempted to do something Extremely Stupid if he turns to look at Harry right now. 

Just as Kim is about to proceed with actually thinking of ways to get out of this predicament, Harry squirms on top of him and mutters something.

"Kim..."

Kim didn't think that it would be possible for him to freeze up even more. But he does.

From his perch on Kim's shoulder, Harry happily mumbles more gibberish.

"Mmmssdffmmmnn..."

Then, Kim somehow makes out a some actual words from the line of consonants.

"...Why're you sho cool..."

Then, Harry falls silent again. 

A few seconds later, the gentle snoring resumes.

One by one, Kim's organs resume their normal functioning, and when Kim's brain goes online again, he realizes that there's a stupid little smile on his face. 

The fact that he's only a little bit embarrassed about it is _definitely_ because of that one beer that he had during the party. 

_Alright, let's try this_ _again_ , Kim thinks. _How do I get out of this without waking him up?_

As an experiment, he tries to wiggle one of his arms free...

Harry's snores stutter.

Kim swiftly aborts the experiment.

He stares up at the ceiling for a few moments, at a complete loss for what he can do. 

Then, a traitorous thought arises in his mind.

_Maybe...this isn't so bad._

After all, Kim is tired. So, _so_ tired. Bone-achingly tired. He's so tired that he could probably fall asleep right here. On his own bed. With a large, unconscious man lying on top of him. 

And Harry is...warm.

Very warm. 

And he's...Harry.

Kim is about to resign himself to a cozy, if slightly uncomfortable, night pinned under Harry's big and strong body, when all of a sudden...

Harry’s weight shifts to one side---

\--- And, just like that, Kim is free.

For a long while, Kim continues to stare up at the ceiling as he processes his sudden liberation.

Did Harry just...flip over?

To confirm his suspicions, Kim glances at Harry...

... who's now lying spread-eagled on the other side of the bed, snoring away like absolutely nothing had happened. 

At that moment, several things suddenly call for Kim's attention:

First, Harry seems to be still wearing his shoes. On Kim's bed. 

(Kim makes a mental note to rectify that situation as soon as he finds the strength to stand up again.)

Second, because of the ... unconventional way that they got into bed, Harry's lying on top of the blanket. 

(Kim adds another task to his mental list.)

Third, and most alarming of all, Kim is struck with the stunning realization that he misses Harry's body warmth. 

Quite a bit.

... Actually, very much.

And since he doesn't quite know what to do with that knowledge, Kim decides to do what he usually does when he's confronted with an uncomfortable reality.

He fools himself into believing that he feels something that he actually doesn't.

Like, relief for example.

After a few moments of telling himself that he feels relieved and definitely not disappointed, Kim eases himself off the bed and stands up on unsteady legs. _See, Kitsuragi?_ He tells himself as he takes a shuddering intake of breath. _This is why you should never, **ever** drink alcohol again._

Sighing, Kim turns to look at Harry once again, but this time, he sees something that he wasn't able to see from his previously horizontal vantage point. 

During their brief time as partners, Kim has seen a multitude of expressions on Harry's face, some more memorable than others. Of course, there's The Expression, which seems to be hard-wired into Harry's DNA like an odd mutation. Then there are the smiles --- the grateful smile, like the one that Harry gave Kim when he saw the hubcaps; the confused smile, which Harry gave Jean and Judit when they were undercover in Martinaise; the victorious smile, which showed up on Harry's face when he finally made the Hardie boys tell the truth...

But among all of the expressions that Kim has seen on Harry's face, this is the first time that he's seen...the peaceful smile. 

And this one, Kim decides, is the one that he likes the most. 

Before he leaves the bedroom, Kim goes through his mental list and checks off the tasks one by one.

First, he pads over to the foot of the bed, gently removes Harry's green, snakeskin shoes, and places them by the bedroom door. 

Then, he takes out a large blanket from his cabinet...

And tucks Harry in.

Later that night, as Kim dozes off on his couch, he wonders whether he did the right thing by bringing Harry into his home. After all, not only is Harry drunk out of his wits, he's also someone towards whom Kim admittedly feels an inordinate amount of fondness. 

All in all, it was an impulsive, presumptuous, and highly unprofessional thing to do, and Kim probably shouldn't have done it.

And yet... 

He remembers a warm hand on his shoulder; large, pleading eyes; a shaky, grateful smile. 

When Kim finally falls asleep, he dreams of a warm, tequila sunset. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) It is canon that Trant works out and is buff as heck (bonus: so is Jean), so he can probably carry someone as heavy as Mack.
> 
> 2) The alternative title of this chapter is, "Kim Kitsuragi's Composure Gets _Tested_ "
> 
> 3) As you may have noticed, I'm really terrible at predicting how many chapters my works will have. This fic was originally supposed to only have three chapters, which became four, and now, there's a fifth one coming up. In case you're wondering why, it's because even though I knew the major plot points that I was aiming for, I was open to how the story wanted to tell itself...
> 
> So when Harry's voices demanded more screentime... Well, baby, they're gonna _get it_.
> 
> Last chapter (I promise): Harry wakes up with a massive hangover in Kim's apartment.


	5. The Afterparty: Part II

**LIMBIC SYSTEM** \- An ungodly amount of alcohol circulates within your body, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Your liver is radioactive, your kidneys are rotting, your heart curdles in your chest cavity. And let's not even talk about the havoc that it's causing to the funky, gelatinous innards of your cerebral cortex...

 **ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN** \- You drank yourself into oblivion. _Again_. But this time, you tossed in a special toxin into the psychedelic cocktail of neurotransmitters and fuck-all that you love drowning yourself in so much.

You tossed in hope, brother-man.

**INLAND EMPIRE** Formidable: Success] - A pastiche of memories flicker through your mind like a skipping ferrotape: Crowded streets filled with shouting merchants, a pawnshop filled with swirling lights, a white box with an orange ribbon, a gloved hand on your arm---

**ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN** – What do you think you’re doing, Harry-boy?

 **YOU** – What? I’m not doing anything.

 **ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN** \- Drop the act, buddy. You're not cooperating with us. I thought we had an agreement---No more anguish. No more pain. No more love.

 **LIMBIC SYSTEM** – In that other world, the auditory system of your quivering meat-bag picks up strange vibrations in the air. A creak, but one so quiet that it could have been a figment of your intoxicated imagination...

**ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN** – Oh, Harry. You’re like one of those pathetic, fluttering, little insects that gravitate towards the bright warmth of a candle, propelled by a death-wish that’s carved into their arthropod brains.

You’ve found a new candle, little moth. And, just like the last time, you’re going to go down in flames.

 **YOU** – I don’t understand what you’re talking about.

 **LIMBIC SYSTEM** – The fragile shell of your eardrum vibrates in the exact frequency of another meat-bag’s slow, quiet footsteps...

**ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN** – You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about. The void in your heart that the apricot-scented one left behind. That gaping wound in your soul that tormented you so much that you were ready to jump on the one-way train to Fuck-All-Borough. They’re gone. They’re both gone.

Because you’ve put someone else in her place.

 **PERCEPTION** [Heroic: Success] – Even as you dream, you have the uncanny sensation of being watched by a benevolent gaze...

 **YOU** \- No, I haven’t forgotten her. I ---

**ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN** – That's it. Keep on lying to yourself, Harry, because you’re just _so_ good at that.

 **LIMBIC SYSTEM** \- The visual system detected a new entity, one that rivals the apricot-scented one in its capacity to obliterate all of the defenses that we've tried so hard to build around your tender psyche---

They call it...

 _The Haloed One_.

**PERCEPTION** [Legendary: Success] - A slow, barely perceptible displacement of air above you, as if that benevolent, watchful being is reaching down to brush its fingers against your cheek...

**LIMBIC SYSTEM** \- The light. You've always been drawn to the light. To her bright, glowing lungs. To his luminous, devastating kindness. You can't help but flutter around them in smaller and smaller circles until your wings catch on fire---

 **ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN** \- But unlike her, this one will choose to burn with you. 

You're going to be the death of him, Harry-boy.

 **YOU** \- _No_! I'll never let that happen! I'll --- I'll kill myself first before that happens!!!

**INLAND EMPIRE** [Legendary: Success] - The deity's fingers stop their descent. They hover uncertainly above the curve of your jaw... 

**ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN** \- Too late, brother-man. You signed both of your death warrants during that touching moment you asked him to move to your precinct. What were you thinking?

 **LIMBIC SYSTEM** \- When he said yes, a torrent of oxytocin and dopamine flooded through the neural highways of your stinking meat-bag. Now, the mere sight of The Haloed One is enough to release that euphoric flood, and you're a completely, totally addicted...

 **ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN** \- Were you thinking that he could respect you? That he could save you from the animal that you had become? 

**YOU** \- I... I just wanted him to---

 **ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN** \- Were you hoping that he could ... _love_ you?

 **YOU** \- No! ... I mean. _Yes_. But---

**INLAND EMPIRE** [Legendary: Success] - In a divine act of self-restraint, the deity slowly withdraws its hand. 

**LIMBIC SYSTEM** \- Love is a poison. It kills you from the inside, turning healthy tissue into aching, yearning, festering wounds that gush out blood and tears. When love dies, your heart implodes and turns into a ravenous black hole, sucking the entire universe into itself until---

**ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN** \- There is nothing. Only warm, primordial blackness.

**LIMBIC SYSTEM** \- Suddenly, pinpricks of light pierce through the red veil of your closed eyelids, stabbing into your brain like hundreds of needles. The quivering meat-bag groans in pain as your consciousness bleeds back into it---

 **ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN** \- We'll continue this talk soon, Harry-boy. But before you go, don't forget...

No pain. No anguish.

No love. 

**YOU** \- You wake up—

* * *

**PAIN THRESHOLD** [Impossible: Failure] - —to the third-most _excruciating_ hangover that you've ever experienced in your highly successful career as a deadbeat alcoholic. 

**YOU** \- You try to open your eyes...

 **PAIN THRESHOLD** [Godly: Failure] - A beam of light stabs through your corneas and rams into your brain. 

**ENCYCLOPEDIA** \- Your whole body's re-enacting the Antecentennial Revolution, only all of your organs are the commies and the Coalition _at the same time._

**PAIN THRESHOLD** [Impossible: Failure] - Someone's throwing an anodic dance party inside your skull, complete with pulsing lights and an overly enthusiastic bass drummer. Your throat feels like it's been sowed with salt. Your stomach roils with nausea. Your bladder is a swollen, sloshing balloon that's threatening to burst any moment now.

 **PERCEPTION** [Godly: Failure] - There's also a dead animal in your mouth, and by the taste of it, it's already reached an advanced stage of decomposition. 

**HAND-EYE COORDINATION** [Easy: Success]- When you reach into your mouth to pull out the carcass, you're baffled to find out that it feels just like your tongue.

**YOU** \- Wait... This is just the _third-mos_ t excruciating one??? 

**LOGIC** [Impossible: Failure] - Pain. Big. Counting. Hard. 

**YOU** \- Groaning, you flip over to the other side of the bed...

**SAVOIR FAIRE** [Impossible: Failure] - ...And promptly plummet to the floor. 

**PAIN THRESHOLD** [Impossible: Failure] - So, good news and bad news. The good news is that the anodic dance party in your skull's finished.

The bad news is that you probably gave yourself a concussion, so an emergency repair crew's moved into your skull.

And they have jackhammers.

**HAND-EYE COORDINATION** [Godly: Failure] - You flail around for a few frantic moments as you try to untangle your limbs from the blanket that you dragged off the bed. 

**PAIN THRESHOLD** [Impossible: Failure] - By the time you finally succeed in liberating yourself from your cottony prison, the room is spinning around you so violently that you almost hurl. 

**PERCEPTION (Sight)** [Medium: Success] - Wait a minute—

 **ENDURANCE** [Heroic: Success] - You put your stomach on emergency lockdown before it can eject its contents onto the floor. 

**PAIN THRESHOLD** [Legendary: Failure] - The jackhammers in your head are going on full speed, and they ain't stopping until they reach the soft, squishy center of your spinal cord.

 **PERCEPTION (Sight)** [Medium: Success] - Hey, this isn't—

 **YOU** \- What... What happened last night?

 **LOGIC** [Impossible: Failure] - For all you know, the world didn't exist thirty seconds ago.

 **PERCEPTION (Sight)** [Medium: Success] - This isn't your—

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** \- Oh maaaaan. You haven't been this hungover since ... since...

 **LOGIC** [Impossible: Failure] - Nope. No clue what you're talking about.

 **YOU** \- Despite the violent pounding in your head, you try your best to remember what happened last night—

**PERCEPTION (Sight)** [Medium: Success] - THIS ISN'T YOUR ROOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**YOU** \- You blink.

Huh?

**PERCEPTION (Sight)** [Medium: Success] - This isn't your blanket, that isn't your bed, and this isn't your room!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**YOU** \- What are you talking about? Of course this is—

You look at the blanket.

**PERCEPTION** [Easy: Success] - It's large, blue, and cottony soft. 

**YOU** \- You sniff the blanket. 

**PERCEPTION (Smell)** [Formidable: Failure] - It smells... familiar. Very, _very_ familiar. But where have you smelled it before?

 **YOU** \- Frowning with effort, you try to make the blanket reveal its deepest secrets...

**INLAND EMPIRE** [Godly: Failure] - But in the end, it's just a really good-smelling blanket. 

**LOGIC** [Medium: Success] - This... isn't your blanket.

 **PERCEPTION (Sight) -** Great job, Detective. 

**YOU** \- You look at the bed.

 **PERCEPTION (Sight)** [Easy: Success] - It's a regular-sized bed that's much, much cleaner than the one that you usually sleep in.

 **LOGIC** [Medium: Success] - That ... isn't your bed. 

**PERCEPTION (Sight)** \- Give this big boy a prize!

**YOU** \- You look around the room.

 **PERCEPTION (Sight)** \- The walls are stark white. Aside from the bed, the only two pieces of furniture are a large cabinet by the door and a desk by the wall across from you. 

**LOGIC** [Medium: Success] - This... isn't your room. 

**PERCEPTION (Sight)** \- ... You really didn't listen to me at all when I said all of that the first time, did you?!

**YOU** \- You stare at the wall in silence as your new discoveries sink through the murky haze within your brain.

Then...

 **YOU** \- **THIS ISN'T MY ROOM**???????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**PERCEPTION (Sight)** \- I give up. Enjoy being blind for the rest of your life. 

**YOU** \- NO, PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!!!!!!!!!!

**SAVOIR FAIRE** [Medium: Success] - Propelled by panic, you jump up from the floor—

 **PAIN THRESHOLD** [Godly: Failure] - The room immediately whirls around you like a crazed carousel. 

**YOU -** Breathing heavily, you crouch down for a moment to stifle the overwhelming nausea that threatens to lift the lockdown on your stomach.

 **COMPOSURE** [Godly: Failure] - Cold sweat pours down your face. Your heart pounds frantically in your chest. Your eyes dart wildly around you. 

**YOU** \- Where... _Where am I_??????

**HALF-LIGHT** [Legendary: Failure] - You were KIDNAPPED by a COP-KIDNAPPER and now you're their HOSTAGE.

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** [Legendary: Failure] - You were BROUGHT HOME by a HOT, MYSTERIOUS STRANGER and just you woke up ALONE on THEIR BED with ALL YOUR CLOTHES ON.

 **LOGIC** [Easy: Success] - Which means you probably didn't get lucky last night.

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** [Legendary: Failure] - Dude, come on! You had one job. _One. Job._

**YOU** \- As your mind scrambles to make sense of the situation, your eyes crash-land on the desk. Specifically, on the objects on lying on top of it.

 **LOGIC** \- Okay. Let's... investigate. Like a detective. Because you're a detective. And investigating's what detectives do.

**YOU** \- You slowly stagger towards the desk while the floor gently sways beneath you.

 **SAVOIR FAIRE** [Formidable: Success] - After a perilous, five-step journey, you finally manage to reach your destination. 

**PERCEPTION (Sight)** [Easy: Success] - There are seven objects lying in the middle of the desk: A tall glass of water, a fluffy, white towel, and a neatly-folded stack of clothes --- a plain white t-shirt, a pair of boxers, and a pair of loose, black pajama bottoms. On top of the shirt, there's a toothbrush and a small, folded piece of paper.

 **HALF-LIGHT** [Heroic: Failure] - A note from your kidnapper! Quick, read it!

**HAND-EYE COORDINATION** [Easy: Success] - You open the note so fast that it almost flies out from your hand.

 **YOU** \- Blinking away the dancing dots from your eyes, you squint at the paper and see a familiar, neat handwriting.

* * *

_Detective,_

_In case you're wondering where you are, I brought you home last night after the party because you passed out during the drinking game._

_Breakfast will be waiting for you in the kitchen. Take your time._

_Hope these clothes fit._

_\- Kim_

_P.S. The bathroom's right outside the door._

* * *

**YOU** \- You stare at the note for a ridiculously long amount of time.

Huh. That's funny. I could've sworn the note was signed, "Kim"...

**LOGIC** [Formidable: Failure] - That's impossible. The hangover's making you see things.

**YOU** \- You rub your eyes and look at the note again.

Uh. It still looks like it says, "Kim"...

**PERCEPTION (Sight)** [Easy: Success] - That's because it **_does_** , you dimwit.

**YOU** \- Oh. 

Your eyes scan the note again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Your eyes grow wider and wider with each pass.

**LOGIC** [Medium: Success] - Wait—

**COMPOSURE** [Legendary: Failure] - Oh.

MY. 

**_GOD._ **

**YOU** \- I'M...I'M...

**I'M IN _KIM'S_ ROOM**?????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**ELECTROCHEMISTRY** [Legendary: Failure] - Okay, this changes _**everything**_! You were BROUGHT HOME by your HOT, MYSTERIOUS **CRUSH** and just you woke up ALONE on HIS BED with ALL YOUR CLOTHES ON.

 **YOU. HAD.** **_ONE. JOB_** _!!!!!_

 **LOGIC** [Formidable: Failure] - What party??? What drinking game???

 **ESPRIT DE CORPS** [Medium: Success] - The welcome party for Lt. Kitsuragi at the precinct station. And the drinking game that Patrol Officer Minot always wins but everyone always joins anyway because it's a great way to get absolutely wasted.

**YOU** \- The memories of the past night come flooding back in a disorienting rush of images and sensations.

I was... late. For the party—

 **ESPRIT DE CORPS** [Formidable: Success] - Because you took longer than expected to find a box for the lieutenant's gift.

 **EMPATHY** [Medium: Success] - The awed gratitude on Lt. Kitsuragi's face when he opened your gift suddenly appears in your mind like a bright, shining beacon. 

**ESPRIT DE CORPS** [Medium: Success] - He liked it. 

He _truly_ liked it. 

**YOU** \- Then we went and got drinks...

 **INLAND EMPIRE** [Formidable: Success] - A memory of a memory. Broken glass from a shattered window, a motel room struck by a hurricane of destruction, an old record player playing a sad, sad song... 

**PERCEPTION** [Medium: Success] - A gloved hand on your arm.

 **EMPATHY** [Medium: Success] - _I'll watch out for you_ , the touch had said.

**INLAND EMPIRE** [Legendary: Failure] - Then the memories cut off like a snipped ferrotape. 

**ELECTROCHEMISTRY** [Formidable: Success] - That's probably when the tequila fumes started melting your brain.

**YOU** \- You struggle to recall something— _anything_ —that happened after the drinking game, but you come up with nothing.

 **LOGIC** [Heroic: Failure] - Alright, let's try deducing what happened. 

...

...

...

The lieutenant probably teleported you both over here from the precinct—

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** \- Some of us get hit harder than the rest whenever we have these benders.

**ESPRIT DE CORPS** [Medium: Success] - Regardless of how he did it, the fact remains that Lt. Kitsuragi chose to haul your unconscious body from the precinct to his home. And if that weren't enough, he even let you have his bed. 

**EMPATHY** [Medium: Success] - The thought of Kim going out of his way so much for you fills you with a mix of conflicting emotions---

 **AUTHORITY** [Heroic: Failure] - The lieutenant saw us in a most disgraceful state! How will he respect us now????

 **EMPATHY** [Heroic: Success] - He didn't have to do any of this, but he did. It was incredibly kind of him to do, and you're flooded by an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards him. 

**ELECTROCHEMISTRY** [Heroic: Failure] - Wait, you were literally passed out on his bed. Don't tell me he didn't even think of copping a feel? I mean, look at these big guns!!!

 **YOU** \- You glance at your admittedly muscular biceps.

 **ESPRIT DE CORPS** [Heroic: Success] - Among all of the other officers in the 41st, the lieutenant is particularly vigilant when it comes to maintaining professional boundaries. This act of goodwill must have taken a lot out of him.

**YOU** \- You stare in dumb gratitude at the note and the other goods on the desk. 

He... he didn't have to do any of this.

I don't deserve any of this.

 **VOLITION** [Heroic: Success] - No, he didn't. And no, you probably don't.

But he did it anyway.

 **AUTHORITY** [Medium: Success] - Because he respects you.

 **EMPATHY** [Medium: Success] - Because he cares for you. 

**ELECTROCHEMISTRY** [Medium: Success] - Because he has the hots for---

**ENDURANCE** \- Suddenly, you realize that you're absolutely, dreadfully _parched_. 

**HAND-EYE COORDINATION** [Easy: Success] - You desperately grab the glass of water and proceed to drain it in four, greedy gulps.

 **COMPOSURE** [Legendary: Failure] - Your heart is beating erratically in your chest, and your face feels dreadfully warm...

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** \- Run away all you want, mister, but you can't run away from the truth!!!

**YOU** \- Now that you're slightly hydrated, you feel the murky haze in your mind clear away a little. You feel steadier on your feet too. 

**PAIN THRESHOLD** [Legendary: Failure] - Excuse me, but would you be interested in retaining a functioning pair of kidneys? Because they're getting some, uh, _backflow_ from your bladder—

**AUTHORITY** \- We can't step out of the room like this! We're absolutely filthy! What if the lieutenant sees us?

 **LOGIC** [Easy: Success] - Then we just take a shower. Good thing he left us some clean clothes. 

**YOU** \- You reach over to get the towel and the clothes from the desk—

 **PERCEPTION (Taste)** \- Even after drinking that whole glass of water, your mouth still tastes like the grave of a particularly putrefied carcass...

 **YOU** \- —and grab the toothbrush along with them. 

* * *

**PERCEPTION** [Trivial: Success] - When you finally muster up the courage to open the bedroom door, you're immediately punched in the face by the mouth-watering aromas of crispy, fried bacon and freshly brewed coffee.

 **PAIN THRESHOLD** [Formidable: Failure] - Despite its persistent nausea, your stomach releases a gurgling growl so loud that it probably reverberated throughout Kim's apartment.

 **YOU** \- Panicked, you clutch your stomach before looking frantically down the short hallway leading to the living room.

 **PERCEPTION** [Heroic: Success] - Doesn't look like anyone's coming. You're clear to go!

 **YOU** \- Before your stomach can complain even further, you rush into the bathroom and close the door quietly behind you. 

**HAND-EYE COORDINATION** [Medium: Success] - Your fingers grope for the light switch beside the door. They brush it a few seconds later, and you turn it on. 

**PERCEPTION** [Medium: Success] - Kim's bathroom is just as compact and tidy as he is. The cool, clean smell of menthol permeates the air...

 **LOGIC** [Easy: Success] - Two possible culprits: the tube of toothpaste by the sink, the bottle of menthol-scented shampoo in the shower area. 

**PERCEPTION (Smell)** [Medium: Success] - ... but there's also the smell of _Kim_. A fresh, clean scent that reminds you of...

 **CONCEPTUALIZATION** [Medium: Success] - Bright blue skies and warm summer days.

**YOU** \- You inhale a deep lungful of that scent, savoring it and embedding it into your memory.

 **PAIN THRESHOLD** [Legendary: Failure] - This is really great, but one of your kidneys is starting to go into mild necrosis...

 **YOU** \- You exhale, and immediately begin the process of making yourself look like a presentable human being again.

First, the toilet---

 **PAIN THRESHOLD** [Easy: Success] - _Oh my god, **finally** \---_

 **YOU** \- Then, the shower---

 **PERCEPTION** [Easy: Success] - You spend an inordinate amount of time just relishing the absolutely blissful sensation of warm water on your skin.

 **YOU** \- Finally, the sink. 

**HAND-EYE COORDINATION** [Medium: Success] - As you vigorously brush your teeth, you make sure to give your tongue a nice, thorough scrubbing to remove the dead-animal taste from your mouth. 

**YOU** \- And just like that, you feel like a whole new man. 

**PERCEPTION** [Easy: Success] - The clothes that the lieutenant gave you are a snug fit. The t-shirt is a bit tight around the arms and midriff, but it's better than the sweat-stained shirt that you woke up in. 

**ELECTROCHEMISTRY** \- Hey. 

**YOU** \- ... What?

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** \- You're wearing Kim's clothes.

 **YOU** \- ... So?

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** \- Don't you see??? This is _clothing_ that has come into _contact_ with Kim's _body_. And now, it's coming into contact with _yours_. 

**YOU** \- I don't see what you're---

Then it hits you. 

**CONCEPTUALIZATION** [Easy: Success] - It's ... it's like a hug. That you can wear.

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** \- Not exactly how I would put it... But sure, whatever floats your boat, buddy. 

**YOU** \- Raising your eyes to heaven, you silently thank the gods for blessing you with such an incredible gift.

**PERCEPTION (Smell)** [Trivial: Success] - When you step out of the bathroom, the scents of bacon and coffee still hang in the air like a delectable, olfactory trail leading to the kitchen. 

**YOU** \- Your stomach immediately takes control of your feet and propels you toward the origin of those wonderful aromas. 

**PERCEPTION** [Easy: Success] - When you step into the living room, you notice several things. To your right, a radio cheerfully announces the morning news from its perch on the low, coffee table between the couch and the sliding door to the balcony. There's a neatly folded blanket draped over one of the arms of the couch---

 **YOU** \- The thought of Kim sleeping on this cramped couch while you hogged his bed sends a sharp pang of guilt through your heart. 

**PERCEPTION** [Easy: Success] - To your left is a small dining table with two chairs. The table is set for two. 

Then, your nose re-orients your entire head towards the source of all those mouth-watering smells...

**YOU** \- Gulping nervously, you quietly pad your way over to the kitchen.

What do I say to him??? 

**RHETORIC** [Easy: Success] - "Good morning," seems to be the typically accepted greeting among most civilized human beings.

 **AUTHORITY** [Formidable: Failure] - You could also add, "Sorry for being a disgraceful, drunken idiot last night."

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** \- Forget all of that. Just go to the **_really_** important question.

"So... Did we have sex?"

**VOLITION** [Heroic: Success] - _GOOD MORNING_. Say, "Good morning."

Not that last one. 

**YOU** \- As you cross the threshold to the kitchen, you open your mouth to say, "Good morning!"

But then you see him. 

And your heart stops.

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- The lieutenant is wearing the most casual outfit that you have ever seen on him---a dark grey t-shirt, black knee-length shorts, and a pair of house slippers. He's preoccupied with cooking something on the stove with his back turned to you, which gives you a few precious seconds to marvel at the pale skin at the base of his neck.

 **YOU** \- It occurs to you that because the high collar of Kim's bomber jacket, you've never actually seen the back of his neck before---

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** \- _Kiss it_. You _**have**_ to kiss it. 

**VOLITION** [Legendary: Success] - NO! Do **_not_** kiss it, do **_not_** kiss it!!!

**YOU** \- Paralyzed by the internal war that rages within your members, you continue to gape stupidly at Kim's beautiful neck.

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- Switching the stove off, he's about to reach over for a plate on the counter beside him when he finally notices you.

He turns—

 **REACTION SPEED** [Formidable: Success] - Snap out of it, man! Say something! 

**YOU** \- You shake yourself out from your neck-induced stupor and deliver your carefully crafted opening line.

"GoodmorningKimI'msorryforbeingadisgracefuldrunkenidiotlastnightdidwehave—"

 **VOLITION** [Godly: Succes] - _STOP RIGHT THERE_!!!!

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** [Legendary: Failure] - Noooo!!! You were so close to finding out the truth!!!

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- Stunned by your word vomit, the lieutenant just blinks at you for a few seconds.

 **COMPOSURE** [Legendary: Failure] - Your face is heating up like the lieutenant's frying pan out of sheer embarrassment and shame. 

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- Then, to your massive relief, he chooses to respond to your run-on sentence as if it had been a perfectly normal greeting.

"Good morning, Detective. How's the hangover?"

**PERCEPTION (Sight)** [Medium: Success] - He gives you a subtle look-over, and seems relieved to see that the clothes fit you well enough. 

His eyes linger briefly on how your shirt-sleeves stretch around your biceps.

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** \- Oh yeah, he's definitely ogling those big guns!!!

 **ESPRIT DE CORPS** [Formidable: Success] - The lieutenant approves that you took a shower before coming to breakfast. 

**RHETORIC** [Easy: Success] - He also asked you a question, so he might be expecting something like... I don't know, an _answer_?

**YOU** \- "It's uh, not too bad now, actually. The shower really helped," you say in what you hope to be a steady voice.

 **KIM KITSURAGI** \- He nods. "Excellent. I'm sure you're starving—"

 **PAIN THRESHOLD** [Medium: Failure] - As if on cue, your stomach releases a very loud, plaintive growl. 

**COMPOSURE** [Legendary: Failure] - You didn't think it was possible for your face to get hotter, but it does.

 **KIM KITSURAGI** \- The lieutenant coughs into his fist in an effort to hide the small, amused smile on his face.

"Khm. Well, let's get to it then. Would you mind helping me carry these to the dining table?" he asks, tilting his head towards to the plates of food on the counter. 

**YOU** \- Eager for an opportunity to salvage your dignity, you nod vigorously. 

**PERCEPTION (Sight)** [Trivial: Success] - Kim's prepared a veritable feast for breakfast. There's pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, and coffee... 

**PAIN THRESHOLD** [Medium: Failure] - Your stomach quivers pathetically in your abdomen at the sight of such abundance. 

**YOU** \- After transferring the plates to the dining table, you plop into one of the chairs and watch Kim pour a generous amount of coffee into both of your mugs. 

**PERCEPTION (Smell)** [Trivial: Success] - The coffee's wonderful aroma wafts into your nose, and you almost weep with joy and expectation. 

**PERCEPTION** \- You absolutely cannot wait to find out if Kim's cooking is as good as it looks. 

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- Finally, the lieutenant takes his seat across from you.

"Go ahead, Detective," he says as he gestures to the plates on the table.

**YOU** \- Like a starving bear, you proceed to pile food onto your plate as if this was your last ever chance to eat breakfast.

 **COMPOSURE** [Challenging: Failure] - As you take your first heavenly bite of the pancakes, you can't help but let out an ecstatic moan. 

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- The lieutenant's egg-laden fork pauses in mid-air as he blinks at your reaction.

 **PERCEPTION (Taste)** [Trivial: Success] - Warm, fluffy, creamy sweetness floods your mouth and sends shivers of pleasure travelling through your central nervous system.

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** [Legendary: Failure] - Did he spike these pancakes with Speed or something? Because who needs drugs when you can have _these pancakes_?????

**YOU** \- With alarming speed, you practically inhale the rest of the food in your plate while Kim watches on with awe and amusement. 

"Kim," you finally say, looking at him with wide, adoring eyes. "this is the most delicious breakfast I've ever had in my entire life."

 **PERCEPTION (Taste)** \- It's true. This breakfast has completely ruined any other breakfast, past or future, that you will ever have. 

**CONCEPTUALIZATION** [Medium: Success] - You could say that this was... the champion of breakfasts. (Aha.) 

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- This time, he doesn't even try to hide his smile from you.

"I'm glad you liked it, Detective," he says, his eyes glinting with mirth. 

**EMPATHY** [Easy: Success] - He's very, very pleased by your praise. It doesn't seem like he gets to cook for others very often, so your affirmation genuinely means something to him. 

**ELECTROCHEMISTRY** \- He's devastatingly cool, smart, and really, really, hot. And apparently, his cooking skills can also level an entire isola.

Please marry him already.

**YOU** \- Before you can ask Kim to marry you, your eyes land on his coffee mug. 

**PERCEPTION (Sight)** \- It's a plain white ceramic mug that has the following words printed on one side:

**WORLD'S**

**BEST**

**~~DAD~~ COP**

Both the line across "DAD" and the word "COP" seem to have been scribbled on using thick, black permanent marker. 

**ESPRIT DE CORPS** [Easy: Success] - Only one person in the entire precinct could have given Kim a gift as lazily prepared as this one.

**YOU** \- "Lemme guess," you say, tilting your chin towards Kim's mug. "Chester gave that mug to you, didn't he?"

 **KIM KITSURAGI** \- If the lieutenant seems surprised by your deduction, he doesn't show it.

"Yes, he did." The corners of his lips quirk up. "What gave it away, Detective?"

**YOU** \- You grin. 

"I have the exact same mug at home."

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- He actually chuckles at that. 

**VOLITION** [Formidable: Success] - At the sound of his chuckle, you instantly decide that from now on, you will embark on top-secret personal mission to make Lt. Kim Kitsuragi laugh out loud someday.

**YOU** \- "What did everyone else give you?"

 **KIM KITSURAGI** \- Sipping his coffee, Kim counts off the gifts that he received on the fingers of one hand. 

"Chester gave me this mug. Mack gave me a poster. Judith gave me a notebook and pen. Trant gave me a model Kineema. And Jean gave me a new lighter..." he says.

Then, he seems to remember something.

 **EMPATHY** [Formidable: Success] - The lieutenant is realizing that he hasn't really thanked you for your gift yet.

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- He puts his mug down and looks straight at you. 

**EMPATHY** [Easy: Success] - The earnest gratitude in his eyes makes you want to look away out of sheer unworthiness. 

**VOLITION** [Heroic: Success] - But you manage to meet his gaze, albeit nervously.

 **KIM KITSURAGI** \- "Harry," he says.

 **ESPRIT DE CORPS** – Not “Detective,” or “Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor,” but “ _Harry._ ”

 **KIM KITSURAGI** \- "Thank you for the hubcaps. They're--- the most thoughtful gift I've ever received."

 **DRAMA** [Easy: Success] - The dear lieutenant is telling the truth, my liege. 

**COMPOSURE** [Medium: Success] - It's rare to hear Kim grasping for words like that. He must really want to get it right. 

**YOU** \- You feel yourself flush again at the luminosity of Kim's gratitude. 

"Oh. It's... It's nothing, Kim. Besides," you say with a sheepish grin. "You gave me those hubcaps first, remember?"

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- He returns your smile fondly.

 **COMPOSURE** [Heroic: Success] - You desperately try to stifle the butterflies that flutter in your stomach at the sight of his smile.

**LOGIC** \- Sorry to interrupt this romantic moment, but this might be a good chance to ask the lieutenant what exactly happened last night. 

**ELECTROCHEMISTRY** \- Yeah, like, "Did we have---"

 **VOLITION** [Legendary: Success] - Every word that comes out of your mouth will be _carefully_ filtered, so go ahead and ask him. 

**YOU** \- You clear your throat. 

"Hey, Kim. Uh..."

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- He tilts his head questioningly at you. "What is it, Detective?"

 **ESPRIT DE CORPS** – And just like that, you’re back to being Detective.

 **YOU** \- "I don't really remember what happened last night. Did... Did I do something---?"

 **AUTHORITY** \- Stupid.

 **RHETORIC** \- Stupid.

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** \- Sexy.

**YOU** \- Before you can finish your question, Kim goes ahead and replies to you.

 **KIM KITSURAGI** \- "No, you didn't do anything stupid, Harry."

 **ELECTROCHEMISTRY** \- Okay, but what about something---

 **DRAMA** [Formidable: Success] - Just a moment, my liege. The lieutenant is saying the truth, and yet... Something mysterious lies behind his esteemed words, as if he were concealing an important piece of the puzzle from your regal knowledge...

 **SUGGESTION** \- Try to see if you can convince Kim to tell you what really happened!

**YOU** \- "Are you sure?" 

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- "Yes, I'm sure," he says.

 **EMPATHY** [Legendary: Failure] - The expression on the lieutenant's face is unreadable.

 **DRAMA** [Formidable: Success] - Lt. Kitsuragi is telling the truth yet again, sire. But still, there seems to be something that he refuses to tell you---

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- Just as you're about to ask him one more time, Kim arches his eyebrow.

 **VOLITION** [Godly: Failure] - The words of your question freeze and die on your lips. Your mouth refuses to respond to the neural commands from your brain. 

**AUTHORITY** [Godly: Failure] - Once again, the lieutenant's eyebrow has hijacked our capacity for self-determination! Curses!!!!

 **YOU** \- Cowered by Kim's eyebrow, you quietly decide to back off from this line of questioning. 

**EMPATHY** \- If you're done making a fool out of yourself, perhaps you can thank the lieutenant for graciously taking care of your dead-drunk self?

 **YOU** \- You make placating hand gestures at Kim, who eventually relents and releases your mouth from the power of his eyebrow. Relieved to regain your power of speech, you clear your throat and muster all the sincerity that you possibly can. 

"Kim, I... uh. I just wanted to thank you too. For taking me in last night."

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- The lieutenant's face softens. 

**COMPOSURE** [Formidable: Success] - At the same time, the tips of his ears slowly begin to turn a bright shade of red. 

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- "Think nothing of it, Detective," he says sincerely. "I couldn't have just left you there in the precinct, after all." 

**ESPRIT DE CORPS** \- But he _could_ have. Just as the other officers have done in the many, many previous instances when you had drunk yourself into oblivion. 

**EMPATHY** [Challenging: Success] - The lieutenant wouldn't have been able to live with himself if he left you alone at the precinct. After all...

**INLAND EMPIRE** [Medium: Success] - A gloved hand on your arm.

 _I'll watch out for you_ , it said. 

**YOU** \- "But... you ended up sleeping on the couch," you hear yourself say. "I could have just slept there---"

 **KIM KITSURAGI** \- "Harry, you're too big for the couch," he points out.

 **LOGIC** [Medium: Success] - Looking over to the living room, you realize that he's right. If you'd slept on the couch last night, your legs would have been hanging over the side. And you probably would have plummeted to the floor much, much earlier than you did this morning.

**YOU** \- Your mind scrambles to find another way to convey the depth of your appreciation towards Kim's kindness...

 **SUGGESTION** [Heroic: Failure] - Judging from his reaction, the lieutenant will probably just deflect any further declarations of gratitude. 

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- Sensing your inner struggle, Kim lets out a quiet sigh. 

"Harry," he finally says.

**YOU** \- You look up at him questioningly.

 **KIM KITSURAGI** \- He fiddles with his coffee mug for a few seconds.

 **YOU** \- Is... Is he...

 **EMPATHY** [Formidable: Success] - Nervous? As impossible as it may sound... Yes. Yes, he is. 

**ESPRIT DE CORPS** [Formidable: Success] - Lt. Kitsuragi has always prided himself on his composure. This is _highly_ uncharacteristic of him. 

**YOU** \- As you marvel at Kim's nervousness, you suddenly realize that aside from today being your first time to see the back of his neck, this is also the first time that you're seeing... Kim's bare hands. 

**PERCEPTION (Sight)** [Easy: Success] - Without their gloves, the lieutenant's hands look fine-boned and delicate. His fingers are long, slender, and slightly calloused.

 **VOLITION** [Legendary: Success] - You clamp down on the sudden, powerful urge to take Kim's hands in yours so that you can skim your thumbs across his knuckles...

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- "If you're free this morning..." he says.

 **YOU** \- Startled by Kim's voice, you tear your gaze away from his gorgeous hands and desperately hope that he didn't notice you staring at them.

 **KIM KITSURAGI** \- The lieutenant looks at you, and you're startled by the nervous glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"I could use some help installing those hubcaps on my Kineema," he finishes.

**YOU** \- For a long while, you just stare at him. 

**PERCEPTION (Hearing)** [Formidable: Failure] - Sorry, could you ask him to repeat what he just said? You could have sworn that he just asked you to help him install the hubcaps on his Kineema, but since that's impossible...

 **YOU** \- "Pardon?"

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- The lieutenant sighs again. 

"If you're free this morning, I could use some help installing those hubcaps on my Kineema," he patiently repeats.

**PERCEPTION (Hearing)** [Formidable: Success] - Okay. Got it---

_Wait a minute._

**YOU** \- Did Kim just—

 **PERCEPTION (Hearing)** \- ... ask you if you wanted to _hang out with him this entire morning_?

YES. YES HE DID.

**YOU** \- Your jaw drops open in awe and disbelief.

 **COMPOSURE** [Formidable: Success] - In the face of your incredulity, the lieutenant deliberately does not wince. 

**EMPATHY** [Formidable: Success] - This is bad! He thinks that you're going to reject his offer!!!!

**YOU** \- "Of course!!! I'd love to---"

 **KIM KITSURAGI** \- "Never mind, I just thought that---"

**PERCEPTION (Hearing)** \- An awkward silence suddenly stretches out between the two of you. 

**REACTION SPEED** [Heroic: Success] - Quick, say your piece before you interrupt each other again!!!!!

**YOU** \- "Kim," you say as seriously as you can, but with a grin so wide that it makes your cheeks ache, "I'd love to."

 **KIM KITSURAGI** \- The lieutenant stares at you for a moment.

 **EMPATHY** [Heroic: Success] - When he extended that offer to you, Lt. Kitsuragi's original intention was to give you an opportunity to repay his kindness so that you wouldn't feel so bad about receiving his hospitality last night.

However, in the face of your joy, the lieutenant is surprised by how happy he feels that you said yes.

**KIM KITSURAGI** \- Still staring at you with wonder, Kim finally allows himself a relieved smile. 

"Alright, Harry. We'll head down to the garage after we clean up here, then."

**YOU** \- The promise of spending the entire morning with Kim obliterates the last remaining traces of your hangover.

As you help him clear the table, your fingers accidentally brush against his, but neither of you shies away. 

**INLAND EMPIRE** [Heroic: Success] - In the deepest core of your soul, you are aware of ominous dark clouds that are gathering in the horizon, shadowy portents of pain, suffering, and chaos. And you know, with dreadful certainty that one day, they will cover this bright, blue sky with warm, primordial blackness. 

But today is not that day.

Today, you will bask in the luminous warmth of Kim's steady presence like a sapling basking in the sun. Today, you will savor his companionship like a gift that you know you will never deserve, but that will continue to be offered to you anyway because of the stubborn benevolence of its giver.

Today, you will flutter towards the light...

And shelter it with your wings. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand it's a wrap!
> 
> 1) This is probably the single, longest chapter I've ever written so far. Writing in the Voice-format always feels more like a marathon than a sprint, since a relatively simple action (e.g. walking to the kitchen) can easily become a conversation between five of the voices.
> 
> 2) Of all the voices, I find that Ancient Reptilian Brain (a.k.a. Arby) takes the most effort to write. But when his lines come out properly, everything else falls into place.
> 
> 3) Electrochemistry naturally steals the spotlight whenever it shows up, but I have a soft spot for good ol' Esprit de Corps and Empathy, who are my go-to skills whenever Harry interacts with Kim or Jean. This chapter also gave me a newfound appreciation for Perception's versatility as a voice. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, everyone, and I hope you enjoyed the commercial break as much as I did! 
> 
> Last three chapters of the Pain Train, coming up. <3


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